


the little things

by thisbluespirit



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Dracula (TV 1968)
Genre: (both canonical), Community: 100fandoms, Community: hc_bingo, Crossover, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Powers, Post-Canon, Post-Serial: s155 Survival, Vampires, Victorian, ace affected by the Cheetah Planet, crypts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: Mina and Ace have both been infected by something alien, but the results are very different...





	the little things

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Hurt/Comfort bingo April Amnesty crossover challenge using the prompts cages, purgatory, loss of powers & captivity, but I missed the deadline, so now for the square "loss of powers" on my regular bingo card. Also written for 100fandoms prompt 10: shadows and who_allsorts prompt "Forgetting who I am."
> 
> Hopefully, the fic will be accessible to DW fans without knowing the source (a creaky old 1960s b&w British TV adaptation, what do you expect, I'm a classic Who fan), but for those who know the book and might otherwise be confused: Mina is left still infected, Jonathan is Renfield, Lucy turns Mina, and Dr Seward is a fainty snowflake.

Ace leaned forward, pressing a hand against the glass of the train carriage as it made its way through the Yorkshire moors. The journey from London had been long and slow for someone used to TARDIS travel and 1980s speeds, but the Doctor had asked her to come. He was somewhere in mid-Europe searching for something that would fix the TARDIS (or so he said), and had originally packed her off to stay with some friends of his in London who, he said, would probably be in need of her help any time now.

Ace hadn’t been sure what she’d made of Professor Litefoot and his friend Mr Jago, but after they’d discovered a tentacle monster hanging about in the sewers and she’d blown it up, things had been okay, and at least neither of them were bothered if she wore bloke’s clothes for the practical stuff. (Professor Litefoot said he’d seen all sorts, and Mr Jago had just told her she could go on the stage and give Marie Lloyd a run for her money if she could only sing as well. She’d had to disappoint him there, but he’d said something about pyrotechnics as an alternative and looked wistful.)

Then, just as they were getting along nicely and Ace was extending her vocabulary daily, a lizard in a dress and heavy veil had shown up at the door, claiming that she had a message for Ace from Merlin and that Ace was to come and stay with her and Jenny immediately. That Ace had been left with these mere men for so long was merely an oversight because the Doctor – or his future self, to be more specific – had failed to deliver his message on time. The lizard lady was clearly not the sort of person you argued with, and it did sound exactly like the Doctor, so Ace went with her, after making Professor Litefoot and Mr Jago promise to call on her if they needed anything else exploding, on or off stage.

Madame Vastra, her wife Jenny, and their friend Strax had proved to be Ace’s kind of people, but yesterday a parcel and a letter had come from the Doctor – _her_ Doctor, not a future one – and now she was on this train Whitby to try and help some friends of the Doctor’s. She heaved a sigh, momentarily misting the glass window of the carriage. She’d liked the Doctor’s friends she’d met so far, but she didn’t trust him out of her sight. Who else would make sure he stayed in one piece? That was her job, and she didn’t trust anyone else to do it, especially not him.

She pulled the letter out again. 

_Dear Ace_ , she read, deciphering the familiar scrawling handwriting only with difficulty, _I trust the d’Raken under the Embankment didn’t nobble you – if not, I have another task for you. I’m on my way back to join you as fast as I can, but without the TARDIS, not as fast as I would like._

_On my travels I met a Professor Reizler in Vienna, who had some interesting theories on vampires. He introduced me to his new acquaintance, Professor Van Helsing. (Who is entirely real, as it turns out – or as far as I can tell. A very good illusion, at the least, and it’s hard to get whiskers like that right.)_

_Unfortunately, from what he tells me, I believe he has been somewhat over-optimistic about leaving his young friends in Whitby unprotected so soon after their recent trouble with a dangerous vampire. However, I have every faith in you to keep them safe, if you’re willing and able to take a trip to Yorkshire. You will find a small but sufficient armoury enclosed._

A mini-essay on the Great Vampires, their children, relatives, the Haemovores, and the differences between various species, and, more importantly, how to defeat each of them followed. The parcel had contained what Ace thought of as tacky film-style vampire fighting equipment – a large wooden cross, a crucifix on a chain, a bundle of dried wild garlic, a small bottle of holy water and a stake and a mallet. 

“You’ve _got_ to be joking,” she’d said, when she first opened it, but at the bottom had been a note that said, heavily underscored: _I’ve never been more serious - USE AT ALL TIMES!_

 

It was only when Ace alighted from the train at Whitby that she realized exactly how few useful details about her mission the Doctor had given her. She didn’t even know the names of Professor Van Helsing’s friends. Was she supposed to wonder round Whitby asking everyone she met if they had run into any vampires lately?

She raised her head and straightened out the skirt of her brown dress as she stepped forward onto the platform regardless. Probably all she had to do was wait for something weird to happen and run in that direction, and she had practice at that. The Professor’d have arranged something. She hoped.

However, before she’d taken two steps forward, someone approached her; a tall, thin man in a long grey coat. He had a stupid sort of moustache that stretched across his face from his sideburns, but she was getting used to being in an era where men were more adventurous with their facial hair than she thought was a good idea for anyone.

The man held out a hand, grasping hers. “Miss… Ace, is it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just Ace’ll do, though. You must be the Professor’s friend.”

His expression relaxed and he nodded, leaning over to take her case before she had time to protest. “Thank heaven. The Professor didn’t explain much in his telegram – or give much of a description to go on. I’m Dr Seward.”

Ace tried to snatch back her case, and then thought better of it. “Um, look, my suitcase – be careful with it. It’s really fragile. Probably shouldn’t even have brought it on the train.” Holy water and all that was one thing, but Ace had far more faith in the power of nitro 9 to vanquish monsters. Trying to get porters not to manhandle it had caused her a few hairy moments on the way up, however.

Dr Seward nodded.

“Scientific equipment, you know,” she added, as he led her across the platform to the exit.

“I see,” he said, and smiled. “The Professor did say you were an expert, although…” He paused and coughed. “Isn’t that a little unusual?”

Ace sighed, and gave him a further minus point, to go with the one for the epic moustache. “For a girl?”

“You seem young to have completed your studies,” he said, evading the question. 

“I had an eccentric tutor who was into this stuff,” said Ace. “Besides, they teach all sorts in schools these days. You’d be surprised.”

He merely nodded again, his interest fading as he stared ahead. Then he rubbed his forehead with his free hand and said, “I’ve a carriage waiting to take us to the asylum.”

Ace was really glad she wasn’t the one carrying her case at that point, because she’d have dropped it. The Doctor had sent her to a Victorian mental institution? She had vague ideas of strait-jackets and cells and women being locked away by their husbands. As if Gabriel Chase hadn’t been bad enough. “Thanks, Professor,” she muttered darkly, and then let Dr Seward help her up into the carriage, but she deducted another few minus points for the whole asylum thing.

 

Dr Seward continued being vague and distracted on the journey over. Ace took her case back from him so that she could hang onto it more tightly, and he barely even seemed to notice.

“You okay?” she asked.

He turned, giving her a baffled look and then blinked. “Oh. Forgive me. Yes. Rather tired and concerned by the latest turn of events. If you don’t want to stay at the asylum, I’m sure I can arrange something else for you. I cannot promise that it will be safe as things stand.”

“No need to worry about me,” said Ace. “Look, my Professor was pretty cryptic too. I know you had some sort of trouble with a vampire a while ago, but I don’t know what it is that’s wrong now. Has it come back?”

Dr Seward stiffened at the mention of the word _vampire_. “God forbid,” he said. “As yet, the only problem is poor Harker – he keeps reverting to his former disturbed state. It’s hardly to be wondered at after his experiences, and his troubles began much earlier than the rest of ours. We’ve never been able to uncover precisely what happened to him in the castle. However, it is impossible not to fear that this relapse may be connected to the Count, despite his destruction. As Professor Van Helsing says, there is so much we do not yet understand concerning the nature of such creatures.”

“Gordon Bennett,” said Ace. “The Count? You don’t mean _Dracula_?”

Dr Seward turned sharply. “You’ve met him?”

“Not exactly,” Ace said, “but he’s pretty famous where I’m from. Er, I mean, among us vampire hunters, that is.” The Doctor _had_ said it was Van Helsing’s friends he was sending her to help out, but she hadn’t thought that meant she’d be up against Dracula, who she’d always thought was just a cheesy figure about of a lot of late-night films. Although given that she’d been staying with someone who claimed to be the original model for Sherlock Holmes, maybe she should just accept that a whole lot of Victorian writers really hadn’t needed to make much up after all.

The driver brought the carriage to a halt, and Dr Seward got out, turning back and holding out his hand to her to help her down.

“Thanks,” said Ace, handing him her case instead. “Hang on to that – and careful!” She jumped down, landing without much dignity, but at least without falling over, and then she gave him a smile as she reclaimed her case. “Right. Where do we start?”

Before Dr Seward could reply, they were both distracted by the sound of a wild cry coming from somewhere inside the asylum.

“It must be later than I thought,” said Dr Seward, and then raced towards the building. Ace stared after him, then hitched up her skirts and followed at a run.

 

Dr Seward led her into the hallway, pausing to talk to the diminutive housekeeper who bustled over to take Ace’s case and coat.

“Mrs H,” Dr Seward said, while glancing over his shoulder. “This is our guest – Professor Van Helsing’s friend. Miss, er, Ace, Mrs H will see to you while I –” Another cry came from somewhere down below them, and Dr Seward stopped, muttered an apology and dashed away.

Ace gave the housekeeper a grin and said, “Look, leave my case there, it’s got seriously breakable stuff in it. In the meantime, my room can wait. I’d better go after him. I was sent here to help, and it sounds like I’m needed.”

Mrs Hoskins only stood aside, and Ace made her way down a metal spiral staircase into the basement, where there were cells, exactly as she’d feared. Once she’d reached the bottom, she could see two of the attendants and Dr Seward trying to drag a yelling patient into one of them.

“Hey!” said Ace, and charged over, tugging Dr Seward away. “Leave him alone, fungus face! You can’t do that.” 

She tried to pull the patient free, but he suddenly swung about and turned on her, staring hard. Ace swallowed her protests and took a step back at the look in his dark eyes. She’d been travelling with the Doctor for long enough to recognise something inhuman when she saw it. He was young, yet white-haired; well-dressed but thin. He ceased his struggles and stepped towards her, seemingly fascinated; the attendants and Dr Seward watching, but warily ready to catch hold of him again if he tried to hurt her.

“Who are you?” the patient asked, studying her closely. “You must forgive me for alarming you, but,” he leant forward and lowered his voice, gesturing behind him at the others, “ _they_ don’t understand. They never did understand the Master.”

Ace froze. “Wait, the _Master_ –?”

“He means the Count,” Dr Seward murmured from beside her. He unobtrusively edged nearer, putting himself between Ace and his patient. “Harker, we must get you into your cell. That’s what you asked me to do, don’t you remember?”

Harker frowned and put a hand up to his head. “No – lies –” Then he shook himself, and nodded, letting the two burly attendants lead him into the nearest cell.

“I’m sorry about that,” said Dr Seward. “He should have been safely locked away by this hour.”

Ace nodded. “I’m all right. That’s the bloke you said was still being influenced by Dracula, then? No wonder you’re worried.”

“Please,” said Dr Seward with a wince. “If you could avoid mentioning that name while he’s in this state, I’d appreciate it – he tends to get excited if he hears. If you’ll come upstairs, I’m sure Mrs H will see about some tea.”

 

When Dr Seward ushered Ace into the drawing room, she found there was a young woman in there, sitting on the sofa, reading a book. She looked up as they walked in, and immediately stood, crossing over to meet them. Her gaze alighted on Ace and she blinked, glancing from her to Dr Seward, and back again.

“Forgive me,” she said, “but _you_ are Professor Van Helsing’s expert?”

Ace held out a hand. “Something like that, except it was _my_ Professor who sent me. Dr Smith, I mean. I’m Ace.”

“I see,” the other woman said, smiling at her, as she shook her hand in return. She was tall and upright, with fair hair and a bright smile. “I’m Mrs Harker – Mina Harker.”

Dr Seward shut the door behind him. “Mrs Harker. Now I understand why Jonathan was so much worse.”

Mina sighed and sank back down on the sofa. “Yes. I am sorry, John. But I had to come and meet Ace. I do hope you can help poor Jonathan. He was recovering so well, and now this!” She glanced up at Dr Seward. “He was, wasn’t he?”

Dr Seward nodded.

“Well,” said Mina, picking up her gloves from beside her, the oversized onyx ring on her finger glinting in the light of the gas lamps, “I suppose I had better leave you, or I shall only disturb poor Jonathan further. Have you any idea why yet, John?”

“I’m sorry. I still don’t understand,” Dr Seward said. “It’s not as if your presence disturbed him before.”

Mina gave a small smile. “No,” she murmured. “It didn’t. He took very little notice of me then. But there it is. Ace, forgive me, I must take my leave. I will come back in the morning, and we may talk then – make our plans, I hope.”

“Yes,” murmured Dr Seward, taking her hand briefly before escorting her out into the hallway.

Ace, left alone in the drawing room, sat down on the sofa and frowned. The Professor hadn’t been joking. Something was seriously off here, and she wasn’t sure which of the three people she’d met was the source of the problem. Dr Seward was barely present and seemed to be distracted by something beyond his patient’s weird behaviour; Jonathan was channelling a famous dead vampire, and even if Mina seemed okay, something about their exchange bothered Ace in ways she couldn’t pinpoint. Her Cheetah senses, which had been dormant for ages, were waking up, too, and if she had fully changed, she’d have been raising her hackles and hissing by now. She sighed. Not that she wanted that, but maybe if she had, she’d have been able to get right to the heart of the trouble.

 

“Mrs Hoskins,” said Ace the next morning, as the housekeeper came in with a fresh pot of coffee for the breakfast table. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m sure you can,” said the housekeeper. “And I’ll do my best to answer, though I make no promises. Patients’ affairs are private for one thing.”

Ace nodded, swallowing her last mouthful of kedgeree. “What’s up with Dr Seward? I know he’s worried about his patient, but it’s not only that, is it?” 

Last night, after Mrs Harker had left, he’d seemed hardly to remember she was there half the time. Even if he had been overworking, it didn’t seem like explanation enough to her. Could he have been bitten already?

“My employer’s business is also private,” Mrs Hoskins said, drawing herself up, regardless of her lack of inches. Then she relented. “But it’s true he’s not been himself since poor Miss Weston took sick and died. Bless her, such a sweet young lady, and nobody could ever work out what it was ailed her.”

Ace drank her coffee. “Miss Weston?”

“Dr Seward’s fiancée,” said Mrs Hoskins. “Poor Mrs Harker’s friend. Some rare disease, it seemed – even the Professor couldn’t do a thing for her, though I know they tried everything they could.”

Ace nodded. “Right.”

“Will you be needing anything else?” said Mrs Hoskins. “Or shall I send someone in to clear away the things?”

“Oh, I’ve finished, thanks.” Ace pushed back her chair. “What about Dr Seward, though?”

Mrs Hoskins laughed. “He had his hours ago, before he started his rounds. You needn’t trouble yourself on that front.” She gave Ace a second glance as she began piling the crockery onto a tray, and betrayed herself with a sigh. “Well, as much as he eats at all lately. I worry about him. I hope you _can_ help.”

“I’ll try,” promised Ace. She watched Mrs Hoskins leave and leant forward, elbows on the table as she propped her chin on her hands. “I just hope I’m not too late.”

 

Breakfast behind her, Ace went out to familiarize herself with Whitby and, like most other visitors, wound up making her way up to the top of the East Cliff where the ruins of the abbey were to be found. She probably paid far more attention to the nearby church and its graveyard than most other visitors, though. It was where your classic vampire tended to hang out, and she seemed to be dealing with the ultimate in classic vampires.

The graves didn’t tell her much and the dead didn’t seem to be inclined to walk in daylight, but Ace’s trip wasn’t wasted. On heading towards a large family crypt, she found Mina Harker kneeling in front of it, replacing a bunch of dead stems with a handful of snowdrops. Above her, the stone edifice had the word WESTON carved into. Lucy’s grave, then.

“Hi,” said Ace, walking over.

Mina started and turned, before giving a smile and rising from her crouched position, brushing down the long navy skirt of her dress. “Ace, isn’t it?”

“You miss her, don’t you?” said Ace, feeling that something needed to be said. “Your friend – Lucy, that’s right?”

Mina’s expression sobered as she slipped her arm through Ace’s. “More than I can say. Lucy was my oldest friend – indeed, my only true friend.” Her gloved fingers trembled against Ace’s arm. “We cannot let the Count win.”

“Too right,” said Ace, but Mina moved on from her without taking much notice, crossing over to the other side of the churchyard and stopping before a long plain stone slab laid flat on the earth. She gripped the iron railings around a nearby grave as she looked down at it.

Ace waited for Mina to say something, but the grave seemed to have all her attention. “Who’s buried there, then?”

“Nobody,” said Mina, turning back with an odd smile. “I have it on good authority – well, perhaps questionable authority is more accurate – that too little remained of its original occupant for him to be said to be there.”

Ace screwed up her face. “So, what’s it to you?”

“It’s also where the Count hid himself in daylight.” Mina touched the tips of the iron railings beside her, still looking at the tomb and not Ace.

Ace moved to stand at her side. “So, what you think he’s still in there? Shall we open it up and see?”

Mina laughed. “No, oh, no. There wasn’t enough left of him to put back inside the earth, either.” She drew in her breath. “No, what is left of the Count – if anything is – is elsewhere. I was only thinking of that unfortunate – do you suppose it to be a sin in every instance?”

“You what?”

Mina finally turned away from the grave. “Oh, I am sorry. The poor man who isn’t buried there. They say,” and she lowered her voice, leaning in near to Ace again, “that he was a suicide. He threw himself onto the railway.”

“Urgh,” said Ace, distracted from Mina’s question by that unpleasant image. Then she frowned, because she couldn’t be doing with calling things ‘sins’ but she hardly wanted to go telling Mina that suicide was a great idea, especially when she seemed to be in a really weird mood. “And I suppose it depends, doesn’t it?”

Mina patted her arm. “Perhaps. Only the nature of how one dies is rather preying on my mind. Dr Seward and Professor Van Helsing both assure me that Lucy was saved, in the end, although I wonder – but I’m sure this must be too morbid for you. Forgive me. Shall we walk along the cliff path for a little way and let the breeze clear our heads?”

“Why not?” said Ace. It was hard to disagree with Mina now she’d turned brisk like that. She reminded her of a really nice teacher she’d once had, years ago, when she’d been at primary school and lessons hadn’t seemed so naff and some of the teachers even human. She’d _really_ liked Miss Hutchinson. “Although that’s kind of why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Mina stared out to sea. “Yes, yes I suppose it is. And, you see, I do worry. For the Professor says the Count was damned and Lucy saved, but where, I wonder, does that leave Jonathan and John and I? We are neither quite living, but we are not dead, nor yet undead. We are left in some sort of purgatory, and I do not always know how to bear it, or how to help either of them.”

“I expect it’ll all work out in the end,” Ace said, feeling that she was missing something important. “I’ll think of something. Promise.” 

Mina nodded. “Yes.” She turned her head to look at Ace, her blue eyes, shifting like the sea below from green to grey to blue with the changing light. She drew herself up, her mouth setting in a decided line. “I have decided, and I think you may be right. All _will_ be well.”

 

Ace went back to the asylum while Mina returned to the Weston house. Mina was helping the housekeeper to pack things away, she said, which was at least keeping her busy and her mind off their troubles – most of the time.

Walking into Dr Seward’s rooms, Ace was surprised to find Jonathan sitting there, calmly drinking tea, as if he had never raved to her about vampires or attacked anyone in his life, let alone last night. She edged over and leant against the wall, cautious but not wanting to be unfriendly. “Hello again.”

“Miss Ace, isn’t it?” said Jonathan. “We met yesterday, I understand. I apologise if I alarmed you.”

Ace frowned, moving over to sit opposite him at the table. “Don’t you remember?”

“No,” said Jonathan, replacing the tea cup in its saucer as a shadow crossed his face. “No, not properly. It’s better if I don’t try. As you saw last night, I am not yet free of the Count’s influence.”

“How do you think that happened?” said Ace. “D’you think it’s something in you, or something else – like some part of him or something that belonged to him?”

Jonathan lifted his head. He was playing with a sugar cube between his fingers, and, at her question, he dropped it into the saucer. “It really is better if I don’t think of any of it,” he said, and then he smiled, the wild glint back in his eyes, and an urgent edge to his voice. “You don’t want me to remember the hunger – the pain – the glory. How it felt to serve the all-magnificent one and yet never be deemed _worthy_ – never!”

Ace jumped up from the table, knocking her chair over in alarm, repelled by the change in him. She had to fight against the animalistic urge to snarl and draw her teeth in response, and she swallowed, shaken. She hadn’t known the Cheetah planet still had such a hold on her. She’d thought she’d mastered it ages ago. She _had_ ; she knew that. Maybe it just didn’t mix well with vampires.

“He chose _her_ ,” said Jonathan, rising himself and advancing on Ace. He was so thin, his clothes hanging off him, that he ought to be only a figure of pity, but Ace backed away. She didn’t want to fight anyone right now, not if there was any risk of her changing. “First _Lucy_ , who was nothing to him – only his toy! – and then _her_. She’s got it, you know, and it should be mine.” He reached Ace, gripping her arm. “It will be, won’t it?” And then his expression fell in on itself and he sagged back into the chair, putting a hand to his head.

Ace opened her mouth to say something, maybe ask if Jonathan was all right, when she heard a movement behind her and turned to see Dr Seward at the door, frozen on the threshold.

“Harker,” Dr Seward said eventually. “Do you want to go back downstairs?”

It wasn’t a threat, only a mildly phrased question, despite Jonathan’s cut about Lucy that he must have heard. Ace didn’t think finding his patient having yet another relapse would have put _that_ look on Dr Seward’s face.

“I suppose I had better,” said Jonathan with a shaky smile. He used the table to support himself and stood, before giving a stiff half-bow to Ace and walking past Dr Seward. “It’s passed,” he murmured. “I can find my own way back to my cage. You attend to your guest.”

Dr Seward watched him walk down the hallway before he finally turned back to Ace. “Are you hurt?”

Ace shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind some of that tea, though, if there’s any left in the pot.”

“Well, that much I can arrange,” said Dr Seward, relaxing into a smile. He pulled the lid off the top of the teapot, before turning as Mrs Hoskins entered.

“I thought I heard poor Mr Harker having one of his turns again,” she said.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, but it seems to have passed. However, our guest would like some more tea, if you’d be so good.”

The housekeeper gave a brief smile and nod, before bustling away with the empty teapot.

“I’m sorry,” said Ace, “I only asked him if he really couldn’t remember last night, and then something started him off again. I didn’t mean any harm. He will be all right, won’t he?”

Dr Seward sank into the chair opposite her. “I don’t know,” he said. “I fear not, not now.”

“Hey,” said Ace, stretching a hand across the table to place it over his arm. “It’s not your fault – you’re trying to help.”

He closed his eyes, and Ace thought again that he might not be showing any vampiric tendencies, but something seemed to have drained the life out of him.

“Tea,” said Mrs Hoskins, reappearing.

Dr Seward lifted his head only with an effort, barely registering Mrs Hoskins’s presence but with a gesture for her to place the teapot beside Ace. She however, gave him a look of fond concern before she exited. She was a servant, Ace supposed, with a glare at Dr Seward, though he didn’t notice that, either. His housekeeper saw him properly, but she was more like a supporting wall to him. Not the sort of thing you paid any attention to, but you’d fall over without it.

Mind, he didn’t seem to be himself, so Ace shook off the thought and investigated the full teapot, before pouring them both a cup, pushing his over the table towards him, heedless of the liquid slopping into the saucer. “Hey,” she said. “Drink that. We need to keep an eye out for vampires tonight. Better keep your strength up.”

He emerged from his reverie and smiled properly. “Thank you, Miss, er –”

“Ace,” she said, drinking her tea without any ladylike delicacy. “Just Ace. Look, Jonathan said something a minute ago, about Mina – Mrs Harker. You said last night he was more excitable when she was here, and just then he said she’s got it, or something like that. Got what?”

Dr Seward drew himself up, stiffening. “Mrs Harker shows no sign of being under the Count’s influence. Much as I hate this popery, she and I both held this cross in our palms to test ourselves as soon as his trouble began again.” He pulled a wooden cross out of his coat pocket, and then put it away again, as if ashamed. “It would have burned a mark had either of us been turned.”

“Potpourri?” said Ace, wrinkling her forehead, before shrugging the question off as irrelevant. “Yeah, but that’s what Jonathan said, and I saw Mina in the graveyard earlier and she was –” Ace shrugged. “Well morbid actually, if you ask me.”

His brows drew together. “Mrs Harker has suffered a great deal. It is hardly to be wondered at if she isn’t always of the most cheerful turn of mind. The problem here is Harker and even that may merely be the effects of his trauma in the castle.”

“Yeah,” said Ace, not pushing her point. If he didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to see it. “You know, you’re not the only person in the country who’s been through weird stuff like this. If you ever need help when I’m not around, there are other people you can get in touch with.”

He put a hand to his head. “Spiritualists, crackpots and charlatans, no doubt. Not men of science. Although I’m not sure what the difference is any more.”

“No,” said Ace. “Look, the bloke I’m thinking of is a proper doctor. Cuts up dead bodies for a living. In London. He’s all right – likes to investigate everything properly and all that. Got some paper? I’ll give you the address. You can tell him I said to get in touch. He’s met a vampire, too, or that’s what his friend told me, anyway.” She didn’t think Dr Seward would have been able to cope with lizard people and potato-headed alien warriors, not yet at least, so there was no point mentioning the Paternoster Gang.

Dr Seward’s face lightened. “A fellow doctor? That I would appreciate. The Professor is by far the cleverest man I know, but he goes a little too far and too fast for me sometimes, especially in this matter.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” said Ace, and then remembered that he meant his professor, not hers. “Now, make sure you drink that tea.”

He laughed, and Mrs Hoskins, returning at that moment for the tea things, gave Ace a grateful smile. Dr Seward didn’t see that, either.

 

“Ace?” said Mina, walking into the drawing room. 

Ace was busy scowling over some of the books on vampires and other legends that Professor Van Helsing had left behind him. Dr Seward had said he still couldn’t sit down and take them seriously and at this point in her reading she couldn’t blame him. They were like antiquarian tabloids with stuff about women giving birth to devils, and rains of toads, and all that sort of crap. She let the book slam shut and fall onto the carpet without any care for its age. “Oh, hello, Mina. What’s up?”

Mina blinked at her odd phrasing, but merely looked around the room, and then placed a box on the table. “I wanted to see Dr Seward, and Mrs Hoskins told me he was in here.”

“He was,” said Ace, straightening herself up, “but he went downstairs to see Jonathan. I thought I’d better not go with him in case I upset him again.”

Mina nodded. “Yes,” she said, casting a distant glance to the side as she sat down on the sofa next to Ace. “I know _that_ feeling.”

“Can I help?”

Mina glanced down at her hands as she pulled off her gloves. “I brought some small items from the Weston house for him. I thought John might like them, if they aren’t too painful a reminder.” She paused, putting her gloves down on the space on the other side her of her before turning back to Ace. “There is perhaps one thing you can help me with, however.”

“What’s that, then?”

Mina drew in her breath and lent forward, pulling out from within the folds of her dress the ugly onyx ring she’d been wearing yesterday evening. She placed it in the palm of her hand and then stared at it, her forehead creasing. “It belonged to the Count. I don’t know how I came to have it, but I haven’t dared let go of it. It affects Jonathan badly enough when I’m merely in the house – and if I gave it to John for safe-keeping, I think Jonathan might tear him apart to get it.”

“So you just kept it?” said Ace.

Mina drew back, raising her chin as her expression hardened. Her fingers tightened around the ring. “Why _shouldn’t_ I? What is this existence to me now? I can take this and be transformed – take whatever I want.”

Ace swallowed. “What’s that, then?”

She’d been repelled by Jonathan’s half-transformation, but Mina’s seemed to be another matter, even if Ace had her own infection in the blood, one that didn’t want to be overwritten by some other, colder species of hunter. But then Mina was very much alive as yet, which was a fact that Ace was fully aware of as she leant in nearer and ran her fingers down Ace’s cheek.

“You should stay with us,” said Mina, lowering her voice and speaking into Ace’s ear, her breath warm; stray strands of hair tickling her skin. “I think you would be make an interesting companion. We could have so much more fun if you stayed, dear.”

“Um, yeah,” said Ace, finding herself pressed back into the sofa cushions as Mina moved forward, kissing her and stroking her neck, and not as inclined to object as she’d have expected. She blamed that old crush on Miss Hutchinson. She forced herself to try and concentrate, and caught hold of Mina’s wrist. “All fun and games until you bite me!”

Mina shook her head and put a finger to Ace’s lips. “Not unless you want to,” she murmured, “but why wouldn’t you? Why wouldn’t anyone? What is there here to compare?”

“Mina –”

“What?” said Mina, kissing Ace again, and Ace had to admit it was a good question and she didn’t know the answer right now. She let go of Mina’s wrist, her hand falling back onto the sofa; the will to resist ebbing away as Mina leant over her, kissing her on the mouth, then on her neck, her hand tugging at the front of Ace’s dress. Ace could feel her heart rate increase and her Cheetah senses really weren’t helping any. “Gordon Bennett,” she said under her breath as her thoughts fogged over. What did any of it matter as long as Mina kept this up?

Mina hesitated, however, and drew back, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. Ace, after a brief moment of deep disappointment, shook her head to clear it and then extricated herself by rolling off the sofa onto the floor. She landed in an undignified heap, half of her dress still caught under Mina, and when she tugged it away, she heard the sound of the material ripping. She never could seem to keep one of these fussy old-time dresses in one piece.

“Mina?”

Mina closed her eyes, but turned her head down towards her hand, the heavy ring on her finger.

“You don’t want this,” said Ace softly. “I _know_ you don’t. That was why you were talking about that bloke this morning. You’d rather die than hurt anyone. So don’t let something else force you into it.”

Mina lowered her head further, her face screwed up as if in pain.

“Give it to me,” said Ace, leaning forward in her urgency and gripping the edge of the sofa seat as she looked up at Mina. “I can take it, I promise. I can get it somewhere safe or get rid of it. Me and the Professor have finished off worse things than this.”

Slowly, Mina lifted her head and opened her eyes, then began to hold out her hand to Ace.

“That’s it,” said Ace, shuffling forwards. “Come on.”

And then, as Mina began to unclench her fingers, ready to hand the ring over, the door behind them opened and Dr Seward strode in with Jonathan close behind him and instead of Mina giving her the ring, all hell broke loose in the drawing room.

 

“You’ve got the worst timing of anyone I’ve ever met,” said Ace as Dr Seward helped her out from under the wreckage of the sofa and the nearby table. She pulled the white lace-edged tablecloth off her and cast it down on the floor. “I’d got it all sorted – now look what you’ve done! What did you have to go and bring Jonathan in here for?”

He rubbed his forehead and surveyed his drawing room with a rueful look and a small sigh. “I had no idea – how could I?” Then as she made to stride past him and hurry after the other two, he caught hold of her arm, startling her, since he really wasn’t the forceful type. She looked up, questioning.

“You’re hurt,” he said, and nodded to the large wall mirror behind them. 

Ace peered past him to see a trickle of blood making its way down the forehead of her faded reflection. “Yeah, maybe. I think I’ll live, though.”

“Yes,” he said, with a tired half-smile, “but I had best attend to you before we do anything else.”

“There’s no time to waste! If we don’t hurry, one of those two will be a full on vampire before the night’s out. Maybe both. And Mina doesn’t want that – I know she doesn’t!”

Dr Seward refused to budge. “We have one advantage - I believe I know where they must be going, and, unlike them, I have transport at hand. Now,” he murmured, releasing her, “I’ll ask Mrs Hoskins to see about getting the carriage ready – and in the meantime, you must allow me to look at that cut.”

“All right,” said Ace, wiping blood from her cheek. She supposed it probably would be better if she wasn’t walking around bleeding and even more of a temptation to a vampire than usual. “You’ve got lousy timing, though, fungus-face.”

Dr Seward glared at her briefly, but then he merely gave another sigh, and nodded.

“Sorry,” muttered Ace, sitting down on a nearby unbroken chair. She looked up at him. “S’pose I do feel a bit shaky. You okay?”

He stared down at her. 

_Stupid question_ , thought Ace, and put her hand to his arm. “We’ll save them,” she said. “All right? Now hurry up and get on with sorting me out so we can get after them.”

 

By the time Ace and Dr Seward reached the cliff top churchyard, it was dark. Ace had, after Dr Seward had cleaned up the cut on her temple, taken the opportunity to grab her rucksack and change into more sensible gear. Dr Seward had been more horrified at that than he had been at Mina and Jonathan’s fight, but there wasn’t time for him to object. And as she pointed out, they were going in the carriage and once they got out – well, who was going to be hanging about in a graveyard in the evening gloom to be shocked at her trousers?

Dr Seward crossed to a patch of ground not far from the Weston crypt. “This was where he fell,” he said in a whisper. “Dracula, that is.” He shivered. “Where are they?”

“Over here,” Mina said, causing them both to turn to see her standing in the pathway, not far from the Weston crypt. “I’m so glad you came to join us.”

Dr Seward took a step backwards. Ace gave him a small shove forwards and he stiffened, squared his shoulders and headed towards Mina, who merely backed steadily away, beckoning him on. Ace, about to follow, was grabbed from behind, her yells temporarily muffled by a hand over her mouth. _Jonathan_. She kicked and struggled, but he hung on grimly with strength that could not have been his own. 

“John,” said Mina, further away yet, holding out her hand to Dr Seward. Ace could hear her smile in her voice and she fought harder at the sound. She didn’t think Dr Seward was in any state to resist a vampire. It probably would have been best if she could have left him back at the asylum, but she hadn’t fancied facing down both Mina and Jonathan alone, either and she doubted he’d have agreed to that. Her plan had been meant to go the other way round, though – her getting that stupid ring off Mina while Dr Seward kept Jonathan busy.

Ace tried another tack, ceasing her struggles. “What do you want?” she said when Jonathan removed his hand from her mouth. “What are you going to get out of her biting him? You’re not a proper vampire yet anyway. What if she just runs off without you and you’re stuck like this?”

“All I need,” said Jonathan in her ear, “is a distraction. I know how it feels,” he went on, his voice growing almost dreamy, though he hadn’t relaxed his hold on her. “The hunger – the desire. And now – she won’t see me coming!”

He swung round abruptly, throwing Ace away from him with force, so that she struck one of the upright graves, winded and gasping on the gravel and the grass with her elbow in a patch of stinging nettles. She clutched at her stomach, watching the others in alarm – John and Mina still at the entrance to the crypt, Mina putting a hand up to his cheek, then gripping his neck to bring him down to her level. John seemed to be lost in a dream, making no movement or sound of protest. Ace put a hand to her own cheek, remembering with sudden warmth exactly how that had felt when Mina had tried it on her.

She drew in a painful breath and forced herself onto her feet, her attention fixed on Jonathan darting in and out of the bushes and graves in a shadowed, circuitous route towards them. She shouted in warning and broke into an unsteady, limping run over to the crypt, but she knew she wasn’t going to reach them before he did and they seemed to be beyond hearing her yells; in a world of their own.

Jonathan snatched at Mina’s hand. Ace didn’t need to be able to see clearly enough in the grey evening light to know what he’d gone for. It had to be that bloody ring, didn’t it? Mina stopped, and then soundlessly crumpled to the ground. Dr Seward, instead of catching her, only swayed and fell back into the crypt.

“Gordon Bennett,” muttered Ace. She couldn’t go dragging two fainting Victorians down two hundred steps back to civilization, or even one for that matter. Where was the Professor when she needed him?

When she got to the crypt, she found Jonathan thrusting an unresisting Mina in after Dr Seward. Ace made it over in time to try and bar his way back to the path.

“Give me that ring!” she yelled, flinging herself at him, kicking and hitting. “Let them out! If you’ve hurt them, I’ll – I’ll –”

He laughed, catching hold of her wrists and gripping them tightly, forcing her back. “Be my guest,” he said then, pushing her up against the door before opening it and letting her tumble in backwards after the other two. 

“Wait – no!” said Ace, as Jonathan shut the door on her. She swung herself around on the door as it closed, but she was only in time to hammer on it with her fists in outrage. “Hey, let us out! Toerag! Come back here!”

Then she turned and slid to the floor against the iron door. “Great,” she said into the darkness. “I always wanted to be buried alive.” Then she swallowed. She was pretty sure she’d had nightmares like this. “Hey, Dr Seward, Mina? Are you two okay?” 

Dr Seward coughed, and she heard rustling from the same direction, and then he said, “Yes. But this – are we locked in here? This is appalling!”

“Mina?” said Ace. “Mina!” She shook herself. What was she thinking? She reached inside her bag and pulled out a torch and switched it on. It illuminated the crypt in patches, highlighting cobwebs, dust, and coffins piled up about them in the cramped space, but lowering the beam, she lit on Mina shivering in a heap on the floor.

Dr Seward dragged his horrified gaze away from the coffins and turned to Mina, lying close by his side. “Mrs Harker,” he said, touching her shoulder gently while Ace kept the torch directed at them.

“Is she all right?” Ace said, shuffling over. “Why she’s so shaken up? She was the one who was going to bite you!”

Dr Seward turned his head and blinked. “What?”

“You must know that,” she said, kneeling down beside Mina. “Jonathan took Dracula’s ring, and that’s what was causing all the trouble. Must be the shock of losing it – losing all that power.” Ace supposed she could understand that it could be a jolt, finding yourself suddenly only human again, when you’d started to change into something stronger and crueller. She bit her lip. That was a good sign, then, wasn’t it?

Dr Seward, who had seemed to be partly in a daze, finally stirred himself again, seeing Mina’s state. Something of the professional medic reasserted itself; the automatic pilot taking over. “Mrs Harker,” he said gently, raising her head to look at her, and then pulling off his coat and draping it around her shoulders, putting his arm around her and pulling her in nearer.

“I felt powerful,” Mina said faintly, leaning against him, shivering. “And so _hungry_. I could see everything – take anything I wanted – I could fly.”

Ace patted her shoulder. “I don’t think that was you.” She looked across at Dr Seward. “I saw her here earlier. She wanted to die before she hurt anyone else.”

He nodded, but shuddered himself as he glanced around them. “We must get out of here.”

“Tell me about it,” said Ace. She reached into her rucksack again. “I suppose I’ve got a can of nitro – maybe if we keep well back –”

“Explosives?” he said, sounding even more horrified than he had about her outfit or being locked in a crypt with his dead girlfriend’s coffin for company, not to mention those of all his never-to-be in-laws. “In _here_? You wouldn’t!”

Ace pulled her hand back out of the bag. He probably had a point. “Yeah. Okay, best not unless we get desperate.” At least the door had patterned grilles in it, so they weren’t going to run out of air before morning. It was Jonathan running about out there, doing who knew what who was the main worry, although whether or not even in daylight someone would come along who wouldn’t run away in horror when they heard people calling out from inside the crypt was also a good question.

Mina lifted her head. She wasn’t shivering quite as much now, although her face was pale in the torchlight. “I didn’t bite you,” she said to John. “I stopped.”

Dr Seward coughed and looked away from them both, but he nodded.

“Yeah,” said Ace. “You didn’t bite me, either. And you would have given me that ring, if fungus-face here hadn’t walked in. Then we could have saved Jonathan, too.”

Mina managed a watery smile. “I think it was too late for Jonathan a very long time ago.”

“No, no,” said Dr Seward, if without much conviction. “We don’t know that.”

Ace thought of Jonathan out there and free with the rest of the night yet to go and frustration made her leap up, turning round to examine the door with the torch, looking for any sort of weakness, but it was held firm even if some of some parts of it were rusting at the edges. She passed the torch over to Dr Seward and decided the only thing to do was to kick it repeatedly.

It’d give eventually, right?

 

It didn’t give: after about fifteen times, and an increasingly bruised foot, she stepped back to give herself as much of a run up as the space allowed for the next attempt, and charged, only to find the door was open. She fell through it with a wild yell, arms flailing, and landed on the ground with a mouthful of earth and gravel.

“Ah, Ace,” said the Doctor from somewhere above her. “There you are.” He gestured with his brolly at the crypt. “Isn’t this a bit premature? At least, so I trust.”

She lifted her head and grinned. “Professor.”

He helped her up, brushing gravel, dust and earth from her clothes, and she grinned again as she pressed herself in against him in a hug. “Couldn’t you have come back sooner?”

“I may have got a little side-tracked,” he confessed. “Nevertheless, here I am – and how are Professor Van Helsing’s friends?”

Ace threw a guilty look back towards the crypt door. “Dr Seward and Mina – Mrs Harker – are in there and they’re okay, but Jonathan – he’s run off somewhere. Probably growing fangs or something by now. I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Good. I’m relieved to hear it.”

Ace frowned. “What d’you mean, good? We need to find him!”

“No, not good for him, I agree, but since I ran into Mr Harker a few moments ago, I was more concerned for the rest of you.”

Ace made a move to march forward. “Where is he, then?”

The Doctor pulled her back. “He vanished on the wings of the night,” he murmured with a nod towards the North Sea. The wings were, ah, more literal than metaphorical.”

“Oh,” said Ace. “But we can’t just let him go! Not like that.”

He tapped her nose. “In normal circumstances, no, but as I feel certain he was heading back to the castle he now thinks of as home, we don’t have to worry.”

“Why not?”

“Because Professor Van Helsing and his friend Professor Reizler have gone to the castle to clean the place out of vampires and investigate the Count’s library. And while the good Professor may have been careless in leaving Whitby so soon, he seems to have a disturbingly good handle on dispatching vampires.”

Ace pulled a face. “Oh. Poor Jonathan.”

“Yes. However, we can’t have him murdering people and turning them into more of his kind, can we?” He put an arm around Ace. “You saved the other two. Well done, Ace.”

At those words, they both looked back at the entrance to the crypt to see Dr Seward helping Mina out.

“Dr Seward,” said the Doctor, doffing his hat. “And Mrs Harker, I presume? I’m Dr Smith – Ace’s friend. Professor Van Helsing told me a great deal about you – I’m sure he’ll be very glad to hear that you’re still in one piece.”

 

The Doctor would clearly have liked to leave in the TARDIS (currently standing in the ruins of the abbey) right then and there, but while Ace was more than ready to leave the nineteenth century, she had to point out that some of her gear was still in a trunk at the asylum and that, as it contained items that could take someone’s arm off or worse if left carelessly under a bed like that, she really ought to go and get it back.

So, they both returned with Dr Seward and Mina to the asylum and, on the following morning, having retrieved said trunk from her room in the asylum, Ace walked down the stairs more carefully than usual with the case clutched to her chest, ready to make her farewells and go. 

Mrs Hopkins waited in the hallway, watching her progress. “Miss Ace. Mrs Harker would like to see you before you leave if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” said Ace. “I wanted to say ‘bye, but I didn’t know if she was up yet. Thanks!”

Mrs Hoskins stood back for her to pass into the doctor’s personal rooms, and gave a smile before she bustled away.

 

“Ace,” said Mina, straightening up on the sofa and stretching out a hand to her. “I thought I might have been too late to see you.”

Ace shook her head. “No. You okay now?”

“I think so, other than not having slept well last night,” she said. She drew herself up and she did seem sharper, maybe, or brighter. “I feel like myself again at any rate. Must you leave so soon?”

“’Fraid so. You take care, okay?” said Ace, leaning forward to hug Mina. She kissed her on the cheek. “You know, you don’t need to be a vampire to kiss somebody if you want, either.” She drew back and wrinkled up her nose. “Even if it’s fungus-face.”

Mina stared at her for a moment, and then put a hand to her mouth, stifling both laughter and tears. “Ace,” she said eventually, “I’m still _married_!”

“Even if Jonathan,” Ace hesitated and failed to finish that sentence. “Isn’t turning into a bat and flying away grounds for divorce even in the 1890s?”

Mina shook her head. “Poor Jonathan. And if, as the Doctor says, the Professor is at the castle, he may yet be helped.”

Ace opened her mouth to say that the Doctor hadn’t exactly sounded hopeful about that, but stopped herself in time. “Maybe. Who knows?”

“I don’t think anyone understood how far I had gone before yesterday,” she added, more soberly, her gaze when she looked up and across at Ace, a distant grey-blue. “Thank you, Ace. You helped me to remember.”

Ace smiled. “I don’t think I had to do anything. Not really.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyway,” said Mina, and as Ace got up to leave, she rose with her and kissed her briefly on the cheek in return. “Good luck on your travels, wherever they take you.”

 

In the hallway, she almost walked straight into Dr Seward.

“You’re leaving us?” he said, with a glance at her trunk. He made a hesitant move forward, as if to take it from her, but then stopped. “Thank you.”

Ace nodded. She was pretty sure that without her, one or other of the Harkers would have had him for dinner, so it was fair enough. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you need a hand?” he said.

Ace shook her head, moving forwards, past him. Then she turned back. “Hey,” she said. “Fungus-face.”

Dr Seward looked, and Ace softened her words with a smile. 

“Thanks,” she said. “For letting me stay and everything else. And,” she drew in a breath, “look after her.”

 

The Doctor was waiting for her outside, leaning against the asylum wall and squinting out at the distant sea, glimmering on the horizon in the morning sunlight. “Ready?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Ace. She glanced back at the asylum, a faint shadow passing over her face. “D’you think they’ll be okay?”

The Doctor met her gaze. “Relatively speaking,” he murmured. “I think they _will_ remain human, though, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good enough,” said Ace, taking his arm and giving him a grin. “I suppose that’s something, isn’t it?”

“I’ve always thought so. Despite everything.”

“ _Professor_.”

She was going to have to have a word with him – several probably – about going off without her like that, but, she decided as they headed down into the small seaside town, arm in arm, that could wait till they got back to the TARDIS.


End file.
